


Not Exactly a Cakewalk

by slackerD



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-21
Updated: 2013-08-21
Packaged: 2017-12-24 05:23:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/935887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slackerD/pseuds/slackerD
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Santana Lopez already knew her girlfriend was a bit insane.  However, it seemed that she was wrong.  Rachel Berry was actually bat shit crazy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Exactly a Cakewalk

Santana Lopez already knew her girlfriend was a bit insane. However, it seemed that she was wrong. Rachel Berry was actually bat shit crazy.

**…**

It all started three weeks earlier when Mr. Schuester practically danced into glee practice. Santana fought the urge to roll her eyes. She could only imagine what ridiculousness had infected his brain today.

Once everyone settled down, Mr. Schue clapped his hands, which was entirely unnecessary since everyone was already waiting for him to begin.

“Guess what, guys?” he grinned enthusiastically. “It’s that time of year again.”

“Time for the Tri-State White Men Who Shouldn’t Rap Convention,” Santana muttered to Brittany, who giggled. Rachel shot her a disdainful look. She constantly lectured Santana about the merits of giving glee and by extension Mr. Schue their complete attention.

“It’s time for McKinley’s annual Carnival!”

Everyone, but Rachel and Brittany groaned.

“And this year, glee club will have a booth,” Mr. Schue continued.

Rachel’s hand shot up.

“Yes, Rachel?”

“Mr. Schue, I think as glee club captain, I should be in charge of this project.”

“Hell no,” Puck protested. “Because I’m not wearing whatever stupid costume for whatever ridiculous scenario you’re going to come up with.”

“I’m impressed, Noah,” Rachel told him. “I didn’t realize you knew what the word scenario meant.”

“Bite me, Berry.”

“You wish.”

“Guys, guys,” Mr. Schue interrupted. “I think as captain, Rachel should be in charge—”

“Thank you, Mr. Schue—”

“However,” he continued. “The final idea must be voted on by everyone. And while it doesn’t have to be unanimous, it does have to be a majority.”

“But Mr. Schuester—”

Santana elbowed her girlfriend.

“Ow, Santana,” Rachel said, rubbing her side. “Was that entirely necessary?”

“Don’t argue,” Santana replied. “Just be glad he didn’t say it had to be unanimous. You’d never get that, no matter how awesome your idea is. This way, you only have to convince six people.”

“Five,” Rachel assumed.

“No way,” Santana said. “If your idea is making me perform something from _Wicked_ in front of everyone? You’ll have to win me over too.”

Rachel grinned saucily. “Well, then it’s a good thing I have many talents.” She turned back to Mr. Schuester. “How about I brainstorm and we can vote next time?”

“Sounds great, Rachel.”

**…**

Rachel spent the next few days making lists. This wasn’t an irregular occurrence for Santana to witness, but she’d never seen the diva so intense; and that was saying a lot. But really irritated the Cheerio was that Rachel refused to let her see or hear about the lists she was making.

“I don’t want to be blindsided, Rach,” Santana told her one afternoon.

Stretched out on Rachel’s bed, along with Brittany, Santana attempted to weasel _something_ out of her girlfriend.

“I think your hearing it for the first time, along with everyone else is more productive.”

“C’mon, S,” Brittany added. “Surprises are fun.”

“For you, maybe,” Santana grumbled. “Fine. But if there’s anything in there about me wearing tights or feathers, you can cross that one off right now.”

“Noted,” Rachel said, still scribbling away.

Santana shot a pleading look over the diva’s head towards Brittany. The blonde just shook her head and Santana was almost certain that she already knew. That was so unfair.

**…**

Santana was almost nervous about glee. Because she was used to Rachel verbalizing _everything_ , Santana assumed that whatever idea’s the diva had come up with were most likely embarrassing, awkward, or both.

So she sat next to Brit and waited. Surprisingly, Rachel wasn’t there yet. Thankfully, she wasn’t the only one who thought that was odd.

“You don’t think she’s going to make us wear something really stupid, do you?” Finn asked.

“She can try,” Puck scoffed. “But the Puckasauras doesn’t wear anything he doesn’t want to.”

“Whatever, Barney,” Quinn mocked. “We get to vote, remember? Whatever crazy shit she comes up with, we can veto; so just relax.”

“Jeez, Fabray,” Santana said. “How’s 1997 treating you? Pretty well, since you still refuse to join us in the 21st century.”

Before Quinn could snark a reply, Mr. Schuester and Rachel entered together, quietly chatting. The diva spared Santana a little wave, but continued talking to Mr. Schue by the piano.

“All right, everyone,” he said, clapping his hands, unnecessarily. “I’m sure we’re all excited to hear what Rachel came up with for our booth, so I’ll let her have the floor first.”

“Thank you, Mr. Schue.” She turned to face the rest of New Directions. “I spent a lot of time coming up with various things that would showcase us as a glee club.”

A murmur of terror spread across the room at the word showcase.

“However, it’s been pointed out to me that this is a carnival and shouldn’t be taken as an opportunity for performance.”

Everyone shot Santana a grateful look, who appeared just as baffled. Brittany just smiled and waved.

“So instead I have two ideas to present to you. Hopefully one will meet everyone’s approval.” No one said anything, so Rachel continued. “The first one is a singing booth. Following the same logic of a kissing booth, people will pay for us to sing. Everyone has a list of ten songs that people can pick from and can request for five dollars.”

“Ten songs seem like a lot for everyone to work on in only two weeks, Rachel,” Mr. Schue said. “Otherwise, I think it’s an awesome idea.”

“But, Mr. Schue, we need to have choices,” Rachel protested. “How else are we going to have repeat patronage?”

“I think three to five is an adequate amount,” Mr. Schue replied. “There just isn’t enough time, Rachel. In between school, glee, football, Cheerios; not to mention, I’m sure there are other booths people have to attend to.”

“Fine,” Rachel huffed. “Three to five.”

Everyone heaved a sigh of relief.

“What’s your other idea, Rachel?” Brittany asked.

“My second idea is a cakewalk.”

“A what?” Finn asks.

“A cakewalk,” Rachel repeated.

“Yeah, we got that part, Berry,” Quinn sneered. “But what’s your idea?”

“No, you misunderstand me,” Rachel replied. “We have an actual cakewalk. People pay money to participate and then they win cake. The only thing is that everyone would have to contribute a cake, homemade or store bought.” 

And with that, Rachel walked to the chair next to Santana and sat. No one knew what to say; they had all expected much more elaborate and insane ideas from the diva. The simplicity was almost disconcerting.

“Okay, then,” Mr. Schue said, finally. He was just as surprised. “Well then, let’s vote. You can vote for the singing booth, the cakewalk or if you dislike both—”

“Mr. Schue,” Rachel protested. 

“Let’s just wait and see how the voting falls, all right, Rachel?”

“Fine.”

“So how many for the singing booth?”

Kurt, Mercedes and Matt raised their hands.

“Okay, and how many for the cakewalk?”

Santana, Quinn, Finn, Mike, Brittany and Tina raised their hands.

“And finally who votes for neither?”

Artie and Puck raised their hands.

“Okay, so that’s three for the singing booth and two for neither; which means the cakewalk wins with six votes. Congratulations, everyone, we have a booth.”

Rachel stood. “All right. So everyone needs to have a cake ready by next Saturday morning. And then if I could have some assistance setting up some chairs and a couple tables.”

“I think that can be arranged, Rachel,” Mr. Schuester said. “We’ll worry about it when we get closer.”

“Thank you Mr. Schuester.”

**…**

Everything returned to normal. Rachel was once again her chatty self, though she never mentioned anything about the carnival or cakewalk. Santana just assumed it was because there was nothing to worry about. It was a cakewalk; what was there to be concerned about.

**…**

Santana found out the day of the carnival, that there was plenty.

Rachel dragged her to school at eight a.m. Santana grumbled constantly; she was at school on a Saturday. What was worse, was that she was apparently Rachel’s pack mule. She carried all the chairs and set them where directed. She moved the cake table around and set up the music.

Once she was finished, she looked around for Rachel. Her girlfriend was animatedly talking to Brittany, who Santana hadn’t realized had arrived, and holding a thick stack of index cards.

“All finished,” Santana said, approaching the two.

Rachel looked around. “Excellent, thank you, Santana,” Rachel said, pulling her in for a kiss.

“Whatever,” Santana replied when they pulled apart. “What’s with the index cards?”

“For the cakewalk, of course.”

Santana didn’t get to question the diva further because Finn and Kurt arrived carrying two cakes. Rachel directed them to the table. It was obvious that Finn had bought his, but Santana didn’t blame him. She knew she and Brittany wouldn’t be the only ones.

With more and more cakes arriving, Santana didn’t have a chance to question Rachel again. Besides, she had to run over to the Cheerio’s booth and check in. 

As one of Sue’s favored, she wasn’t required to man the booth. That was for the freshmen and who Sue considered weak links. However, she still had to at least stop by and make sure coach didn’t want her to do anything. So she and Brittany waved good bye to Rachel for a bit and headed for the massive red and white Cheerio booth.

Luckily, everything seemed to be running smoothly and Sue waved them off while berating a freshman for not being able to make change quickly enough.

Figuring Rachel had things under control, the pair wandered around a bit, wanting to see what the others had come up with.

The football players were actually running a kissing booth. Santana was amused to see the lines weren’t that long. For all the bragging Puck did, he only had three girls in his line, all freshman and too stupid to know better.

However, she let out a loud chuckle when Kurt appeared waving a five dollar bill.

“Mercedes doesn’t think he’ll go with it,” Kurt confided. “And even though kissing Puck isn’t on the top of my list, it’s definitely going to be entertaining. Besides, he’s hot, even if he is an asshole.”

Santana had to agree. It’s why she put up with his bullshit for as long as she did.

When Kurt reached the front of the line, Puck’s eyes got wide as saucers and his jaw dropped.

“No way, Hummel.”

“Don’t be like that, Puck,” Kurt said. “There’s no rule that says only girls get a kiss.”

“Well, there should be.”

“Except that there isn’t,” Kurt continued. “So you have to. Maybe next time you’ll think these things through a bit better.”

By now, a bit of a crowd started to gather.

“You better do it now, Puckerone,” Santana called out. “Before everyone is here to witness it.”

“Why would everyone be here?”

“Because I texted them,” Brittany chirped.

Puck growled, but knew he couldn’t threaten the blonde with Santana around.

“Fine, let’s get this over, Hummel.”

“And I expect more than just a peck,” Kurt told him. “I want exactly what the girl in front of me got.”

Puck growled even louder since the freshman before Kurt had received a bit of tongue.

While the two leaned towards each other, Santana whipped out her phone, ready to catch every moment. She wasn’t the only one; both Brittany and Finn had theirs out as well.

The kiss lasted about a minute, which was longer than Santana thought Puck would allow. When they pulled apart, a loud cheer and a lot of whistling was heard.

“Kiss him again,” Brittany shouted, waving a five.

“Hell no,” Puck said. “Who’s next?”

“I told you, he couldn’t resist me,” Kurt told Mercedes who had magically appeared next to Brittany.

“Whatever, that was totally worth twenty bucks,” Mercedes said, handing it over. “And with this lovely video,” she continued, holding up her phone. “It’s a very good long term investment, don’t you think?”

Santana could only grin. Next week was going to be very entertaining. She’d already picked out a perfect one to make a poster of and tape to Puck’s locker Monday morning.

**…**

Making her way back towards the glee booth, Santana started to worry. Because she had yet to see anyone with a piece of cake, but she _had_ heard a lot of grumbling about the insanity of the diva.

She approached quietly, not sure what to expect. She watched as Rachel accepted money from eight people and had them circle the chairs. The music started and Santana smiled as she recognized, _Don’t Rain On My Parade_.

Santana watched three rounds as people were eliminated and chairs taken away. No one received any cake, though. Santana was confused, she thought the point was that everyone gets a piece of cake.

“Okay, no we’re going to do something a little different,” Rachel announced before round four began. “This time you have to hop around the chairs until the music stops.”

Okay, not exactly a cakewalk anymore, but it wasn’t that difficult of a request.

The hopping continued for two more rounds. Still, no cake was given out. With only three people left, Rachel took away another chair.

“Okay, before we continue, it’s time for a little trivia.”

“What?” Santana recognized him as being on the JV hockey team. “There’s no trivia in a fucking cakewalk.”

“One,” Rachel began. “I don’t appreciate the vulgarity. Two, this isn’t an ordinary cakewalk. And three, if you don’t like it, no one’s stopping you from leaving this instant.”

He glared at her, but the diva didn’t back down; even with the six foot hockey player towering over her.

“Whatever,” he said finally. “What’s your damn question?”

“Well, since you’re so put out,” Rachel answered. “I’ll give you an easy one.” She flicked through her index cards. “Ah, here’s a nice one for you. Recite the alphabet backwards.”

“What?”

“You heard me,” Rachel told him. “Starting in five, four, three, two, one...”

“Z, Y, uh, X, um…W, uh, U, V…T, S, er, um, R, P, O, N—”

“I’m going to stop you right there,” Rachel interrupted. “You missed one.”

“What? No way.”

“You skipped Q.”

Santana watched him try to remember what he’d just recited. After longer than necessary, he realized his mistake. 

“Fine. I did.” He stalked off angrily mumbling about what a freak Rachel was.

“Okay, next.” Rachel turned to the remaining two. “Who’s next?”

A senior drama girl raised her hand.

“Excellent,” Rachel said. “A volunteer.” She pulled out an index card at random. “How many feet are in a mile?”

The girl just stared at Rachel for a moment. “Are you kidding me?”

“I assure you, I am not.”

“How does that jerk off get, recite the alphabet backwards and I get that?”

“I found the easiest question I have for him,” Rachel explained. “I naturally assumed you’re more intelligent than he is and gave you a bit more challenging question.”

“I’m in drama club,” the girl said. “I don’t do math.”

“Nonetheless, that’s your question.”

“I knew you were crazy, Berry,” the girl replied. “But this is just too much. I’m out of here.”

“Thanks for stopping by,” Rachel called after her. She then turned to the remaining student. “Are you ready for yours?”

“Not really,” he replied. “But let’s get it over with anyway.”

Rachel nodded and pulled out an index card. “Please name Jane Austen’s six novels.”

Once again, Rachel received an incredulous stare.

“Uh, _Sense and Sensibility_ ,” he began. “ _Pride and Prejudice_. _Emma_.” He paused there. Santana could almost see the gears in his head turning. “I don’t know.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Rachel said. “Thanks for playing, though.”

“What? I don’t even get a consolation prize? Isn’t this is supposed to be a cakewalk. Don’t I get something?”

“Unfortunately not.”

“Whatever,” he muttered, stomping away.

Rachel looked unaffected and went about putting the eight chairs back into a circle.

Having just witnessed everything, Santana could only stare. She approached slowly, trying to figure out what to say.

“Oh hi, Santana,” Rachel said, noticing her approach.

“Hey, babe,” Santana replied. “Can we talk a sec?”

“Yes, of course.”

They both sat on a folding chair. Rachel shuffled her index cards as she waited for Santana to speak.

“I, uh, was just watching that last round,” Santana started.

“It didn’t go as I had hoped.”

“Yeah, about that. I’m not sure you’re actually running a cakewalk.”

“What then am I running?” Rachel asked. “There’s walking and people get cake.”

“If that was really true, why are all twelve cakes still on the table untouched?” Santana asked.

“No one’s won yet,” Rachel told her. “Plus, some people had just left before things were finished.”

“I thought the point of a cakewalk was that _everyone_ won,” Santana said.

“What kind of game is it if _everyone_ wins?”

“It’s a cakewalk!”

“Well, I’ve already planned it all out,” Rachel informed her. “And since no one else is helping me, I shall run it how I see fit.”

The staring contest went on for a long time, but Santana knew there was no persuading the diva.

“Whatever,” Santana said finally. “Do what you want. But eventually someone’s gonna get pissed enough to just steal a cake.”

“Santana,” Rachel said, sounding scandalized. “You don’t really think someone would actually _steal_ a cake, do you?”

“I do,” Santana nodded. “Just to get back at you for being crazy.”

“I am no such thing,” Rachel snapped. “Besides, if you really felt that way, why are we dating?”

“Maybe I like a little bit of crazy,” Santana flirted, knowing if she didn’t butter up Rachel, she wouldn’t even allowed to hold the girl’s hand later.

“Save your flattery, Lopez,” Rachel replied. “I don’t want to hear it.”

“Ah, don’t be like that, Rach,” Santana said. “Look, I’ll stick around and act like your muscle, okay?”

“You’ll make sure no one steals a cake?”

“Of course.”

“Good,” Rachel said, stepping closer and kissing Santana lightly. 

**…**

So Santana spent the rest of the day watching Rachel torture people with her supposed cakewalk. It made Santana wonder what she’d missed while watching Kurt kiss Puck. Rachel had people juggle bean bags, jump rope, do pushups, attempt to use a paddleball, try to do a handstand, and answer a lot more trivia questions.

As the day winded down, Santana started to put her foot down about some things. The carnival had been going on for over five hours and they’d only given away one piece of cake. She found the lengths her classmates would go for one lousy piece of cake pretty amusing, but she didn’t want to have to deal with eleven cakes at the end of the day.

So with a lot of flattery and quite a few kisses, she was able to convince Rachel to be more lenient about things; by the end of the day, they really only had two cakes left. It helped that word got around that Rachel had relaxed the cakewalk a lot. There were a number of repeat customers.

**…**

Despite Rachel’s inability to hold a legitimate cakewalk, the glee booth brought in an enormous amount of cash; second only to the Cheerio booth. Mr. Schuester was ecstatic, but Santana had a feeling if he knew how exactly Rachel had earned all that money, he might feel differently. But she wasn’t going to tell. And while their teammates had wandered over briefly throughout the day, only Brittany had stayed to watch for more than a minute, so Santana figured no one would be the wiser. 

Besides, it had been funny as hell watching her classmates flounder about trying Rachel’s stunts or fumbling over the trivia on the index cards.

And since Santana had played bodyguard for the second half of the day, Rachel had definitely forgiven her. So after dropping Brittany off at her house, Santana drove to Rachel’s house to celebrate coming in second; Rachel’s words, not hers.

“You’re not upset about not winning?”

“Of course not,” Rachel replied. “Coach Sylvester is ruthless and scary. I didn’t expect to win and if I had, I would have feared for my life. Not even you could have protected me from her wrath.”

Santana chuckled. “Well, that’s certainly true.”

When they arrived at the Berry house, Rachel didn’t immediately exit.

“My dads are out of town until tomorrow,” Rachel said. “We have the whole house to ourselves.”

Santana just grinned as she shut off her car and hot footed it into the house, Rachel’s laughter following her inside.

**…**

Yeah, so maybe her girlfriend was bat shit crazy, but most days Santana can’t help but love her more for it.


End file.
